Showbiz
by antmuzak
Summary: The third instalment of the "Black Holes and Revelations" series. Healer Ophelia Pomfrey is twenty years old and on the run with the trio. After heartbreak and the loss of her child, all she can do is hope that she can help destroy Voldemort before he gets to her and her friends. Takes place during Deathly Hallows and beyond. Snape/OC, Hermione/Ron, Ginny/Harry. Enjoy!
1. Sunburn

"_**She had something to confess to**_

_**But you don**__**'**__**t have the time so**_

_**Look the other way**_

_**You will wait until it**__**'**__**s over**_

_**To reveal what you**__**'**__**d never shown her**_

_**Too little much too late "**_

_**-**__**"**__**Muscle Museum", Muse**_

**Showbiz**

**Chapter One**

Ophelia knew she would never be the same after she lost the baby- there was no denying that. When she walked, the sound of her feet against the floor was hollow and echoing. When she talked, her voice sounded defeated and hoarse. When she looked out the window at the melting snow that surrounded Hogwarts, she felt cold and numb. But she endured.

"You're becoming quite the healer," her mother commented, as Ophelia cleaned a student's wound. The hospital wing was practically brimming with children everyday. Ophelia's mother wouldn't tell her why the students were in such condition, but Ophelia had a suspicion that something about the discipline at Hogwarts was different.

"I only wish…," the matron's voice quivered, "that you could get better training. I know you don't want to hear this, but-," Ophelia shut her eyes, knowing what her mother was about to say.

"-I think it would be good for you to take that internship at Saint Mungo's."

Ophelia stood, and grabbed the bandages off the table by her patient's bed. Luckily the first year was fast asleep- with the help of a sleeping drought she'd made earlier. She dressed his wound, and looked up at her mother. Maybe a few months ago, her glare would have a sharp edge to it, but she was too exhausted for that now.

"You know my answer," she muttered, and stood. She collected her items and moved onto the next bed.

The next patient was awake- it was Neville Longbottom. He had a black eye and a large bruise on his cheek.

Ophelia tutted, and inspected his injuries with a careful eye. Poppy Pomfrey followed Ophelia to the second bed, her face still puckered with a look of determination.

"But I've taught you all I know, and you have so much potential!"

Neville seemed distracted- he didn't even look at Ophelia. She poured him a glass of sleeping drought and softly encouraged him to drink it. There wasn't much she could do for him, except allow him to drift into a safer world where no harm could reach him.

Ophelia stood once again, this time brushing her hands against her matron gown and sighing.

"There's a war going on. I can't think about my future at a time like this. Besides, I feel…I feel like I need to stay here. It's the least I can do…," Ophelia trailed off.

"I know that you're feeling guilty because you left the others, and I know that you're also feeling…a little stunned, after everything's that happened. But I just want what's best for you."

Ophelia shook her head firmly, pursing her lips.

"No," she whispered, "you don't know what I feel. You could never."

She turned back to Neville, who hadn't drunk his sleep drought. She pulled up a stool and sat by his bed.

Poppy Pomfrey knew a lost cause when she saw one, and slunk back into her office.

"Neville," Ophelia cooed, "what's happened to you? You can tell me?"

"No," Neville shook his head, "I can't."

"Is a teacher doing this to you?" Ophelia demanded. She could only imagine, "The Carrows?"

She'd heard many things about the Carrows. But within the safe haven of the hospital wing, she'd never encounter them. Them or anyone else that she wished to avoid…

"It's none of your business," Neville snapped, acting very unlike himself.

"Yes it is," Ophelia disagreed, "I'm a part of this battle too. And I care about the well being of the students."

"Then tell me what Harry's doing right now," Neville finally turned to face Ophelia, tears building in his stubborn eyes, "Why haven't we heard from him? You were with him, weren't you?"

"Y-yes I was," Ophelia blinked, "but it's been a long time since I've seen them. Harry could be anywhere."

It _had _been a long time. Today was March 9th- two months since Ophelia had turned twenty years old, and two months too long spent at Hogwarts, away from those who mattered most to her.

Neville's bruised face fell, and Ophelia knew she couldn't let him lose hope.

"It's not that simple, Neville. Dumbledore left Harry with a task, and it's very complex. Even with Hermione at his side, we can't know when he'll succeed. But I can promise you that he will. Harry is a brave man, and he knows what's at stake. Don't give up the fight."

Ophelia grabbed hold of Neville' hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Don't ever give up the fight."

* * *

><p>It had been nearly two months since Severus Snape had sent his patronus to give Harry Potter the Sword of Gryffindor.<p>

Now he sat in Dumbledore's office, looking around him at the portraits of great wizards before him. Never to be a humble man, Snape was surprised at how incompetent he felt in Albus Dumbledore's chair. He felt like a foolish child, wearing his father's baggy clothing.

Snape never spoke to the portraits- least of all to the Dumbledore himself. They intimidated him, and he liked to be alone. That's why hated this office so much- eyes were constantly on him, watching his every mistake. They all knew he was a fraud.

When Snape met with the Carrows- or any of the other staff or death eaters of the school, he met with them outside of his office. It didn't seem right- bringing his lies and deceit into Dumbledore's office. And he didn't want anyone else to see him, sitting woefully in his chair.

All he had with him on his desk was a few stacks of papers, a half-empty jar of blackberry jam, and his copy of Pride and Prejudice, which he hadn't opened since his last encounter with Ophelia.

He tried to repress all thoughts of her. He repressed his questions too. Where had she been all this time? Why had she suddenly returned to the school? Was she okay? Would she _be_ okay? Would she ever speak to him again…?

He bit his lip and closed his eyes. If he didn't see his troubles, maybe they'd disappear completely.

When that failed to work, as Snape's mind was seized by worry, he stood up, inching out of his tainted throne. Perhaps a walk would do him some good.

* * *

><p>It was about an hour later, when Ophelia decided that she could standby idly by no longer. Her mother was tending to a patient, when Ophelia marched into the office where she slept. She grabbed a rucksack, filled it with her clothes and tossed it over her shoulder. She also changed into civilian clothes- a baggy sweater which had fit her when she'd been pregnant, and jeans.<p>

She slunk out of the hospital wing through the back door, with one last glance around her. The sight of the injured children played with her heart strings, and she knew that she may never see her mother again. But she closed the door tightly and nodded to herself. She was making the right choice.

She walked down to the Headmaster's office. It felt wrong to think of it as Snape's office. He'd stolen it.

She stood in front of the entrance and took a deep breath. She knew what she needed to do, but it wouldn't be easy. What if Snape was in there? She couldn't bare to see him again. Besides, she didn't know the password. It was unlikely that it was still _lemon sherbet_.

Ophelia didn't see Minerva McGonagall approach her, so she jumped when the older woman spoke.

"He's not in," she said, her voice cutting through the air.

Ophelia's mouth fell open in surprise. Ophelia's former Transfiguration teacher hadn't seen her in months, and that was all she had to say to her? Especially after the rumours that had been circulating around the school about Ophelia's sudden appearance and pregnancy.

"He's at a meeting with the Carrows. I'd say you could go in and wait for him, but no one knows his password," McGonagall looked as though she might say something else, but instead she walked off, leaving Ophelia feeling hopeless.

She was so close to escaping. Snape's office was empty, but she need the password. She strained her brain, thinking hard of what it could be. Then it came to her.

She cleared her throat.

"Blackberry jam," she enunciated.

She almost smiled- something she hadn't done in a long time- when the spiral staircase revealed itself to her. Some things hadn't changed it seemed.

She marched up the stairs, and barely gave herself time to look around the office. She didn't want to see what the lair of the beast looked like.

"Phineas Nigellus," she called, looking around. She had forgotten where the portrait was.

A groan came from behind her, and Ophelia spun around.

"What is it?" the grumpy ex-Headmaster snapped.

"It's me again," Ophelia whispered, approaching the painting closer.

"Ophelia Pomfrey, is it?" Nigellus had remembered her this time, "not so pregnant anymore, are you?"

"No I'm not," Ophelia snapped, "that's kind of how that works. Now will you do something for me, or not?"

"Alright, alright," the portrait was flustered, "at least be polite about it."

"Where are they?" Ophelia demanded.

"I don't know what you're talk-,"

"Yes you do," Ophelia insisted, dropping her voice down to a quiet hiss, "where are Harry and Hermione?"

"Oh, those buffoons? The three of them are camping out in some field, nasty place in my opinion. If you ask me-"

"The three of them!" Ophelia's heart skipped a beat, "so Ron _did_ come back! Alright well tell me exactly where they are, and do it quickly!"

* * *

><p>Ophelia landed on the smooth surface of a grass field, as she tripped and fell. She was usually a graceful apparater, but today she was in a hurry. The tent was in her view- she was so close.<p>

"Wait a minute," she whispered to herself. She could _see _the tent. That wasn't supposed to happen. What was going on? It was unlikely that Hermione had _forgotten_ to cast the protective spells.

No…something larger was at work here.

That was when Ophelia felt someone breath on the back of her neck, and she turned around.

"Hello beautiful."

Ophelia screamed.

**A/N: Hey guys! Welcome to the third instalment in the series! I really hope you enjoyed this chapter. PLEASE review- PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE! I need reviews to live haha. Anyway, new chapter up probably next week. Have a lovely holiday or winter break.**


	2. Muscle Museum

"_**She had something to confess to**_

_**But you don**__**'**__**t have the time so**_

_**Look the other way**_

_**You will wait until it**__**'**__**s over**_

_**To reveal what you**__**'**__**d never shown her**_

_**Too little much too late "**_

_**-**__**"**__**Muscle Museum", Muse**_

**Showbiz**

**Chapter Two**

"I-I," Ophelia held out of her hands in front of her, as though that might protect her.

"'Ey boys," The man snarled, "if you thought that brunette was cute, wait 'till you get a look at this one."

The man was slender, with long brown hair and thick eyeliner. He wouldn't have been so unattractive, if it weren't for his horrible smirk, and the way he was looking at her.

He stepped closer to Ophelia, but she dared not move. He made a move and Ophelia thought that he might strike her. But he merely draped something around her neck.

Cautiously looking down, Ophelia realized that she was now wearing one of Hermione's favourite scarves.

Frightened, she looked up at her captor.

"Ah," he smiled mischievously, "I thought you might be a part of our party. Why don't you join the gang?"

He pushed lightly on Ophelia's backside, urging her to join his friends.

Glaring, Ophelia looked back at the man. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, silently laughing at the girl.

"Follow us," one of the men growled. He was tall and broad-shouldered. She recognized him as Fenrir Greyback. It didn't take long to realize what was happening. But Ophelia didn't trust her offensive spell skills, so she did as she was told.

She could feel the skinny man's gaze on her back as she walked, but she held back a shudder and continued to walk.

They lead her to a thicket of trees, where more of the skinny man's companions were.

Just as Ophelia had suspected, Hermione, Ron, and Hermione were being held captive. Ophelia frowned, Hermione looked pale as could be, Ron was struggling to escape- to the amusement of his captors, but Harry looked dreadful. His face was swollen and she could hardly recognize him.

"Ophelia?!" Ron shouted in shock. Hermione gave Ron a sharp glare.

"Ooh you're not a bright one, are you," the skinny man leered, "now I know the lovely one's name."

Ophelia took a deep breath.

"No need for secrecy," she waved away the skinny man's laughter, "My name's Ophelia Pomfrey. I'm a pure blood, you can check that."

Skinny man nodded at Greyback who grunted and looked through his book of names.

"May I ask your name?" Ophelia continued, though her hands were shaking and her heart threatened to beat right out of her chest.

"Scabior," the skinny man winked at her, "and that's all you're getting out of me. Now shut your lovely mouth. Greyback?"

The werewolf nodded, though looking unimpressed.

"She's clear, though she's supposed to be at Hogwarts it says."

Scabior approached his favourite play thing, taking a piece of Ophelia's blonde hair in his hands.

"Hmm," he clicked his tongue again, "why is it that you're 'ere instead of there?"

"Because," Ophelia breathed, attempting to steady her voice, "I'm on vacation. My friends and I are on a camping trip."

"In March?" Scabior shook his head.

"I needed to get away from work," Ophelia shrugged, moving slightly so that she could escape Scabior's grasp and get the feel of his warm breath off of her face.

"Hmm, well 'ere's where your story gets a little…silly," Scabior sighed, moving closer once again, this time running a finger along her lip, "your ginger friend says 'is name is _Stan Shunpike_. Well we both know that ain't true. Girly's name is cleared- Penelope Clearwater. But…ugly face over there says 'is name is Vernon Dudley, and we certainly don't 'ave that name in our little book. So who's lying, and why?"

Ophelia remained silent. Her plan was not working the way she'd hoped.

"They're lying because they were frightened," Ophelia explained weakly, "you're very…intimidating."

Scabior inhaled her scent, closing his eyes and grinning. She'd given him the ultimate compliment. Now if she could only kick him…

She moved her foot but, eyes still closed, Scabior blocked her move. He tutted in disapproval.

"Hey boss!" Someone called as he approached, "look what I found."

The man held up a sword and Ophelia couldn't help but gasp. The sword of Gryffindor had somehow found its way to her friends.

"Oh my, now that is something fancy," Scabior commented, "and for the sound of this one's gasp, we weren't supposed to find it."

"Pass it 'ere," Scabior commanded. His companion looked reluctant to let go of the object, but he obeyed his master.

"Hmm," Scabior inspected it, "interesting. This could get me pretty penny, couldn't it darling," he looked back at Ophelia who was still trying to asses the situation and find a way to escape. Scabior had taken her wand, and she couldn't simply run. They'd kill her friends in a heartbeat.

"I w-wouldn't know," Ophelia shrugged, "we just found it."

"Sure you did," Scabior grinned, "what else did you find?"

The man who had found the sword handed over a handful of assorted objects to his boss.

Scabior tossed most of the items on the ground, stopping to pocket a few coins here and there, but he paused and opened up a newspaper, frowning.

"Lookit this!" His frowned turned a proud grin, "that girl in the picture looks an awful lot like you, girly," he pointed at Hermione, "and you're rumoured to be traveling with a Weasley boy…that'll be you, ginger. And…'arry Potter," Scabior clicked his tongue again, walking over to Harry.

Ophelia made to move, but Greyback was at her side.

"I've always liked the taste of blondes," he snarled. Ophelia made sure to stand tall, and refuse eye contact with the werewolf.

"You know…I think you might just be 'arry Potter," Scabior considered, "'Ey, lovely," he snapped his fingers at Ophelia, "pick up those glasses from the floor and bring 'em 'ere."

Hesitantly, Ophelia picked up Harry's glasses from the floor and brought them over to Scabior.

"Excellent," Scabior slapped them onto Harry's face, "well you ain't having your _prettiest _day, are you? But it's 'im alright."

"Now what?" Greyback grunted.

"_Now what?_" Scabior taunted, "Now we hit the jackpot boys! We turn these in to Malfoy, get a fortune in return, and I think I'll keep the lovely one as a little keepsake."

Ophelia felt her hands shake even more.

"Maybe you ought to bring us to the Ministry," she tried, "Harry's a wanted man."

"Tsk tsk," Scabior shook his head, "you think you can trick me, but it's not going to work, my dear. Malfoy's hosting the dark lord. If we hand over Potter, we'll never have to work another day in our lives. Hmm?"

Ophelia nodded solemnly. He was right.

"Alright, let's give the Malfoys a visit, shall we boys?"

Scabior grabbed onto Ophelia's arm with force.

"Hold on tight, my lovely."

* * *

><p>Bellatrix Lestrange lead the foursome and their captors into the grand Malfoy Manor. Ophelia had never seen such a beautiful and terrible home.<p>

Inside, Lucius Malfoy himself came to inspect them.

"Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger," he confirmed, "though I can't speak for this one."

He gave Bellatrix a fierce look.

"Go fetch Draco."

"Do it yourself," Bellatrix hissed, though she did as she was told, nonetheless.

"And you…," Lucius stopped when he reached Ophelia, "get your greasy hands off the girl, won't you Scabior?"

Scabior knew better than to disagree and stepped away.

"Yes, I thought I recognized you. You're Snape's girl."

Ophelia did not even let her mouth twitch. She would not speak to this man, especially not about _him_.

"You're telling me that this lovely thing is _Snape__'__s_?" Scabior's mouth fell open, "but he's such an ugly git!"

"I know," Lucius drawled, "now be quiet. Pity that you had to join up with Potter and his crew. If Snape hadn't wanted you, I know our death eaters would have made you feel…welcome."

Ophelia continued to stare past Lucius' shoulder. She saw Draco Malfoy approaching with his aunt.

Lucius turned to face his son.

"Draco, son. This is very important. We need to be _sure_ that this is Harry Potter. Can you identify him?"

Lucius gestured at Harry. Draco squinted his eyes and slowly approached his enemy.

"Take your time," Bellatrix snapped, "it's not like the Dark Lord is any hurry."

Draco glared at his aunt and inspected Harry. He paused, and turned to look at Ophelia.

She said no words, but the glance she gave him spoke for itself. She was desperate.

"I don't know," Draco turned to his father, "nearly impossible to tell."

"We can't make any decisions unless we're _sure_," Bellatrix warned.

"I know that!' Lucius spat, "Send the prisoners to the dungeon and we'll deal with this."

"Wait," Scabior spoke up.

"What is it, you imbecile?" Lucius snapped, "you can have the girl when we've sorted this out!  
>"Begging your pardon, <em>sir<em>," Scabior scowled, "but there's something else."

He snapped his fingers and Greyback presented Lucius with the sword.

"Where did you get that?!" Bellatrix shrieked, "that's _mine_!"

"Well, which one of you stole that from Bellatrix?" Lucius demanded, attempting to gain his dignity back, but Bellatrix shoved him aside.

"You little brats!" She hissed, "you _will_ tell me. Potter is not to be harmed, and the blonde girl is worth too much it seems. I'll take the mudblood, and if she doesn't squeal, then the blood traiter will be next."

She grabbed onto Hermione's arm and yanked her away.

"HERMIONE!" Ron bellowed, but Scabior's men were dragging them down to the dungeon.

"Ron, _shhh_," Ophelia asked desperately of her friend, "you'll only exhaust yourself."

"Ophelia," Harry whispered, turning to his friend, "what happened? Where did you go? Where's your baby?"

Ophelia shook her head, "it doesn't matter. Not now. We need to-,"

"Wait," Harry breathed, "we're not alone."

Coming out of the darkness, three figures could be seen. Ophelia recognized them as Ollivander, a boy in Harry's year who Ophelia thought was called Dean, Luna Lovegood, and a goblin.

Before any of them could process what was happening, a house elf had appeared from thin air.

Ophelia's eyes widened and she let out a squeak of surprise.

"It's alright," Harry calmed her, "this is Dobby. He's a friend of mine. Dobby, what _are_ you doing here?"

"Dobby has come to save Harry Potter," Dobby bobbed his big head eagerly.

"S-so you can apparate out of here, can you?" Ophelia clarified. The magic of house elves was different, she remembered.

"Yes!" Dobby cried.

"Shhh!" They reprimanded their little friend.

"Alright Dobby," Ron spoke up now. He looked angry and stronger than he had when Ophelia had last seen him. Maybe he'd realized his feelings for Hermione after all, "can you meet us at the top of those stairs in thirty seconds?"

* * *

><p>Ophelia screamed as she landed face first in the surf. She sat up and brushed the cold, wet sand off her face. Hermione and Ron were by her side, comforting each other, but Harry was toward the end of the beach.<p>

Ophelia ran to her friend's side.

"Harry, what is it?"

Harry looked desperately to his friend. He was cradling something in his arms- Dobby. But Dobby was no longer smiling or talking.

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed chapter two of Showbiz! Sorry if I got a little carried away there with Scabior and Ophelia, but he is so fun to write! He's so creepy and attractive at the same time? I don't know! Anyway, please remember to review and chapter three will be up ASAP!**


	3. Fillip

"_**She had something to confess to**_

_**But you don**__**'**__**t have the time so**_

_**Look the other way**_

_**You will wait until it**__**'**__**s over**_

_**To reveal what you**__**'**__**d never shown her**_

_**Too little much too late "**_

_**-**__**"**__**Muscle Museum", Muse**_

**Showbiz**

**Chapter Three**

Harry was solemnly silent as he laid the elf to rest. After that, he barely spoke.

Ophelia empathized with her friend, even if she had never properly met Dobby the elf. People were dying every day because of the war, and there was no near end in sight.

Ophelia wanted to comfort Harry, or perhaps help Fleur with making dinner, or Ron and Dean collect firewood, but her task was clear. Hermione, Griphook, and Ollivander were all weak and injured in some way or another.

"I remember you," Ollivander smiled through his pain, as he greeted his healer, "12 inches, unicorn hair, hawthorne wood, nice and flexible."

Ophelia tried her best not to lose her smile. She thought of herself at eleven years old- unusually tall for her age, skinny, speckled with blonde freckles, and a long blonde braid trailing down her back. She had big blue eager eyes, ready to officially become a witch. That memory was old and tainted, and it made Ophelia feel cold.

"Yes, that's right," she replied, pushing back the covers on Ollivander's bed, so she could get a better look at his wounds. He was healing at a fair pace, though his age was somewhat of a hindrance. He was weak too, and coughed in between his words. It worried Ophelia to think that such a prominent man might be nearing his end.

"I remember you," Ollivander repeated, letting out a small cough, which Ophelia could feel as she peeled back his bandages.

"You were so tall and shy," he smiled to himself, "but I could tell right away that you had potential. Hawthorne wood, good for healers, you know."

Ophelia knew. She'd researched every aspect of her wand the night after her trip to Diagon Alley. She wanted to be sure it was right for her, just like the old man had promised.

"But there's something else about hawthorne wood," the old man wheezed, "that you won't read in a book…,"

"Shhh," Ophelia commanded softly, "you need to save your strength."

But Ollivander shook his head, a stubborn look in his eyes.

"Hawthorne is a very rare wood. You cannot give a hawthorne wand to just any witch or wizard."

"I know," Ophelia's voice was losing its softness, "it's because I'm a healer."

She frowned as she inspected Ollivander's wounds. They still needed some work.

She knew how risky it could be to use magic at this point, so she cleaned the wound by hand.

"No, no," Ollivander croaked, wincing slightly as Ophelia's movements became more aggressive, "if it were that simple, I'd have given you a willow wand."

Ophelia stopped what she was doing, and looked the old man in his eyes.

"Curious, are you?" Ollivander smiled, "You see, Hawthorne is a complicated wood, for a complicated user. It is meant for an individual who has endured a great deal of pain, but has the audacity to overcome such pain and continue to help others."

Ophelia's heart was racing, but she merely let out a light laugh.

"Surely that description can't apply to every hawthorne wand…it's much too specific."

She returned to washing Ollivander's wound until she was satisfied with it. She applied a light salve to speed up the healing process, and carefully bandaged it back up.

"No…that description was meant for someone special," the old man laughed, holding back a cough, "I've heard about the great things you've been doing, Ophelia. You're a very brave girl."

"Brave?" Ophelia shook her head, "are you telling me I should have been a Gryffindor, Mr. Ollivander?"

The old man simply shook his head and smiled. He had said all he wanted to say.

"I'll back to check on you tomorrow," Ophelia put her hand on the old man's shoulder, "get some rest."

"Things will turn out alright in the end, my dear," Ollivander held Ophelia's hand in his own.

"I certainly hope so, sir."

* * *

><p>Ophelia walked downstairs and sat herself down at the table in the quaint little kitchen of Shell Cottage. It was sweet- endearing even, with seashells hanging from the ceilings, and light sandalwood countertops. For a moment, Ophelia was a little envious of Bill and Fleur, who had such a perfect little home- an escape from the harshness of the world. But she waved it away. The Weasleys were risking a lot to house Ophelia and her friends.<p>

Harry walked in through the kitchen door, wiping his feet on the rug. He still left a small trail of sand as he walked on the tile floor, sitting himself next to Ophelia.

"Alright?" Ophelia inquired gingerly.

"Yeah," Harry shrugged, "for now, I suppose."

They sat together in silence for some time, just appreciating each other's company.

"How's Hermione?"

"She's going to be fine," Ophelia smiled, "I promise. But the others…Ollivander and Griphook will need time. I know you don't want to stop now-"

"People are dying Ophelia…so many people…," Harry muttered.

"I know, but sometimes these things take time. If we act too quickly, we'll never get anywhere. Use this time to rest and think about what we're going to do next."

Harry was quiet again, until he abruptly spoke up.

"You lost the baby, didn't you?"

Ophelia looked past Harry, and out the window and the sand banks, and the lapping waves.

"Yes."

**A/N: I know this was a really short chapter, but sometimes we just need filler chapters haha! Thanks so much for following this story, guys! It's great to see all my readers catching up with the third story! Remember- you can always send me a message, I'd love to talk with you guys :D**

**I hope you enjoyed the information about Ophelia's wand- I based that off of the Pottermore information, so technically it's canon. Anyway, thanks again, and the next chapter will be up soon!**


	4. Falling Down

"_**She had something to confess to**_

_**But you don**__**'**__**t have the time so**_

_**Look the other way**_

_**You will wait until it**__**'**__**s over**_

_**To reveal what you**__**'**__**d never shown her**_

_**Too little much too late "**_

_**-**__**"**__**Muscle Museum", Muse**_

**Showbiz**

**Chapter Four**

**A/N: All I have to say is…please review! :)**

_Scene Continued_

"I'm sorry," Harry reached out to hold Ophelia's hand. Ophelia felt the strong urge to pull away, and close up inside. But she knew that Harry was trying to be supportive, and that was something she needed right now.

"It's my fault," Ophelia breathed carefully, treading on a poisonous subject, "I don't know what I was thinking. Being pregnant and on the run…it was never a good idea. I knew the risks, and I did it anyway. I was a fool."

"You're not a fool," Harry shook his head stubbornly, "you're one of the wisest people I know. Hermione's a genius- she's _intelligent_. But you're wise beyond your years Ophelia, and you're compassionate and brave-"

_Brave_, there was the word again, Ophelia didn't _feel_ very brave.

"-and I know that you did what you had to do. We wouldn't have gotten this far without you. I'm really sorry about what happened, but you know…you're going to have another chance at being a mother. You're still really young."

Ophelia tried to picture herself with a happy family and an easy life. It was a blurred image- particularly the man who stood beside her. For a moment it took the form of George Weasley, then possibly a Ravenclaw boy she used to date, and finally Severus Snape. _No, _that's impossible.

"Having children was never my goal. I just got caught in something I couldn't control, and suddenly I was a teenage mother," Ophelia laughed darkly, choking on her tears as they formed, "but now I'm a failed teenage mother, and I don't even know what to do anymore."

"You're not a failure," Harry assured her, "you're amazing, and we need you. So we're going to give you some space, because I know you need it, and I'm going to come up with a plan. As soon as Hermione's feeling better, we're leaving. And you can join us, and help us finish what we started, or…you can stay with Bill and Fleur. It's your choice, Ophelia."

_Right, _Ophelia thought, _my choice._

* * *

><p>Ophelia lost track of how much time had passed since they'd arrived at Shell Cottage. She was so lost in her daily routines, that it felt like an eternity.<p>

Every day she would check on her patients- tending to them and comforting them. She'd go for walks on the beach, enjoying the dreary coastal wind, and looking for any medicinal herbs she could collect.

Her walks were also her only time she could get alone, so she treasured them. The little cottage was getting crowed with Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ophelia, Griphook, Ollivander, Fleur, Bill, Dean, and Luna all in the same house.

The time came when, _finally_, Luna, Dean, and Ollivander left to stay at Ron's Aunt Muriel's.

Ophelia appreciated Luna's company from time to time, but the strange girl was starting to get on Ophelia's nerves.

"_Can I help you with those herbs, Ophelia?__" __Luna would chirp. She would always end her questions with Ophelia__'__s name._

"_I hear that asphodels can be used to lure nargles,__" __the younger blonde would chatter on._

_Ophelia would force herself to keep quiet, and not inform the girl that nargles didn__'__t exist. _

But it was on a dull Sunday afternoon when they were visited by surprise.

Everyone was settled in the house, drying off from a day at the beach by the small wood stove. So whoever was knocking on the door was not one of their numbers.

Bill gave everyone a sharp look which warned them to prepare for battle, as he slowly walked to the door and demanded that the visitor reveal themselves.

"My name is Remus John Lupin," the voice greeted, sounding confident and a little giddy, "I'm married to Nymphadora Tonks, and I just became a father!"

Ophelia's heart sunk, and she turned away from the others, as Remus was welcomed into their home.

"He's a beautiful baby boy!" Remus was exasperated, kneeling over to hold his knees, and breathing heavily, "and Tonks is doing fine!"

Remus was rushed with congratulations and pats on the back.

Ophelia breathed in and out. She imagined herself with a son- a little bouncing baby with blonde curls and big blue eyes like hers.

_Stop it_, she reprimanded herself, _stop living in a daydream_.

"Ophelia?" Hermione was at Ophelia' side. The girl's arm was patched up, and she still looked weak, but she was doing much better.

"Hey," Ophelia forced a smile, "let's see a picture of this son of yours, Remus."

She stood up, wobbling a little, and walked over to see the photo Remus was showing around.

The baby had Tonks' nose and her colour-changing hair, but Remus' eyes and sly smile.

Ophelia's heart swelled as she looked at such a beautiful child. She couldn't help but raise her hand to her mouth.

The friendly chatting had silenced, and Ophelia looked up to see that all eyes were on her.

"H-he's beautiful," Ophelia handed the photo back, continuing her happy facade, "give Tonks my congratulations."

"Will do," Remus looked curiously at Ophelia as he took back the picture and stored it in his pocket.

_He doesn__'__t know_, Ophelia thought, _none of them know, except Harry. It seemed as though Hermione might suspect it, but__…_

"Let's get some champagne, shall we?" Bill's voice cut through Ophelia's musings.

"I'll get it!" She offered, relieved to have an excuse to leave the scene.

She shuffled off into the kitchen and hastily collected all the champagne flutes. While Bill and Fleur lived humbly, Fleur had a few trinkets here and there that hinted at her affluent past.

Ophelia held up one of the flutes to the window where the sun shone through. The sunlight sparkled through the glass, and Ophelia admired the gold design that lined the base of the glass.

"Ophelia."

Ophelia turned to find Remus standing behind her, his hands clasped pleasantly.

"Thought you could use some help."

"Sorry," Ophelia put the glass down on the counter, "I'm just a little distracted."

"It's alright," Remus' voice became a murmur, "Harry told me what happened."

Ophelia's cheeks were aflame. _How could Harry do that? Why would he tell Remus, of all the people to tell?_

"It's alright, he didn't outright say it, but I filled in the blanks. I'm sorry, Ophelia. You would have been a wonderful mother."

"I dunno," Ophelia bit her down on her lip, "it doesn't run in the family."

Remus didn't answer, but smiled and came closer.

"I want to ask you something…did you…did you have a name for the child? Did you have any names in mind?"

Ophelia's eyes widened. It was an abrupt question, and she wasn't sure she could answer it.

"I-I didn't have a lot of time to think on it, Remus. I hardly had time to think about what I was going to do when the baby was _born_."

"You didn't have any names in mind?"

"I suppose I could have called her Poppy after my mother," Ophelia shrugged.

"And if it was a boy?"

"I…I would have called him Darcy," Ophelia realized. _Like Mr. Darcy from _Pride and Prejudice.

Remus smiled knowingly, though Ophelia was sure that he'd missed the reference.

"If it's alright with you, I'd like to use that as Teddy's middle name. He's already named after Tonks' father, and I didn't want to call him Teddy Remus Lupin, it seemed a little narcissistic. What do you think?"

"Remus…," Ophelia sighed, "I hardly know you. You don't need to name your child…after my unborn one."

"I _want_ to," Remus countered, a look of almost parental concern on his face. _Appropriate_, Ophelia thought, _it looks good on him._

"Alright, if it will make you happy," Ophelia nodded, "welcome to the world, Edward Darcy Lupin."

**A/N: This chapter wasn't super long either, I know. But I wanted to make a sort of reflective chapter on Ophelia's relationship with her child, and her thoughts on what could have been. I know that, in canon, Teddy's middle name was 'Remus', but I thought this could be a nice touch.**

**The next chapter will be up soon, and we're getting into the plot very soon!**

**Also shout out to new reader Miss Mae- I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**


	5. Cave

"_**She had something to confess to**_

_**But you don**__**'**__**t have the time so**_

_**Look the other way**_

_**You will wait until it**__**'**__**s over**_

_**To reveal what you**__**'**__**d never shown her**_

_**Too little much too late "**_

_**-**__**"**__**Muscle Museum", Muse**_

**Showbiz**

**Chapter Five**

**A/N: Hello my lovely readers! I just wanted to thank you all so much for your constant support and feedback! If you EVER want to talk, I'd love to! Send me a PM! Seriously, do it! Shout out to Nat King for her awesome drawing of Ophelia as Elizabeth Bennet from Pride and Prejudice! :D It's so cool!**

"Harry, I've had enough," Ophelia said suddenly one morning, a few weeks after Remus' visit.

"Hmm?" Harry rubbed at his eyes. He'd had a long night, Ophelia could see. Maybe his thoughts were haunting him too. Ophelia had given up on restful sleep a long time ago.

"I can't stay here any longer. I'm starting to get cabin fever," Ophelia had made herself some toast with marmalade, not blackberry jam.

Harry, still looking rather dazed, reached out to pick up a piece of Ophelia's toast and nibble on it.

She smacked his arm. Sometimes Harry and Ron felt like the little brothers she never had.

"You told me you were planning something. I want in on it."

Harry swallowed sharply, wincing.

"We'll need to go somewhere private," he decided, "I can't risk anyone overhearing."

Ophelia nodded and slipped on one of Bill's sweaters that she'd been borrowing. It was oversized and baggy, just how she liked it.

Harry and Ophelia walked out the kitchen door, making sure that no one had seen them.

Ophelia's feet sunk into the dry sand, and dug trenches as they strolled along the seaside.

"I love the ocean," Harry said. He sounded more awake, but just as distant. Ophelia understood that.

"Me too," she agreed, "I haven't been in such a long time."

Ophelia thought about the night she'd lost her child. She'd dreamt that she was sitting on a cliff above the ocean, with Dumbledore…

Then she'd fallen to her death. _What did it mean? _

"Listen…I want to break into Gringotts."

Ophelia's dark blue eyes widened in surprise.

"How's that for a plan, eh?" Harry surprised his companion with a smile.

"You think you can find a horcrux there?" Ophelia pressed.

"Yes, in Bellatrix's vault. But it's going to be very complicated, as you can imagine."

"You've talked to Griphook?"

Ophelia directed Harry to the edge of the surf. She bent down to pick up a piece of drift wood. She ran her fingertips across the rough surface.

"Yes, he's willing to help us. For a price."

"The sword?" Ophelia guessed. Harry had filled her in on what had happened while she was gone. She too wondered who had the little doe as a patronus. It was curious.

"Yes. Don't worry, I don't plan on giving it to him. At least, not until I figure things out. But there's more to the plan."

"You've been brewing Polyjuice Potion," Ophelia nodded knowingly. She tossed the driftwood into the sea, with all her might.

"How'd you know?" Harry looked taken aback. Ophelia smiled softly to herself.

"You should know better, Harry. I can identify potions by their smell."

"Oh, right," Harry was puzzled, "well, anyway…you and Hermione will have to transform."

"What about you and Ron?"

"Griphook and I will be under the invisibility cloak. Hermione's going to turn into Bellatrix, you into Narcissa, and we'll disguise Ron as a death eater of some kind. We're going to have to rely on your acting skills to get into the vault. From there-,"

"Wait," Ophelia exhaled sharply, "you want me to pretend to be Narcissa Malfoy?"

She picture the tall, elegant blonde and nearly blushed, in spite of herself. Narcissa was so gorgeous and poised, while Ophelia tripped over her own feet and felt awkward in a dress. Narcissa was also married to Lucius Malfoy. She nearly shuddered, imagining what that would be like. She remembered Lucius's dark gaze following her around at Malfoy Manor.

"You can do it," Harry assured her, "you won't even have to speak, if all goes as planned. Hermione will do all the talking."

Ophelia nodded, though she was still nervous.

"Once we're in, we'll put our guide under the Imperius curse. From there, Griphook will help us get past all the traps and spells. We'll get into the vault, grab _whatever_ the Horcrux is, and get out of there."

"You make it sound so simple," Ophelia teased the tide, reaching her foot out to greet the water, and pulling back just in time.

"I know," Harry laughed, sounding almost bitter, "but it's our only choice. You're right, we can't stay here any longer."

Ophelia remained silent.

"The potion will be ready by tomorrow. Do you think you'll be ready?"

"Yeah," Ophelia's voice was firm, "As ready as I'll ever be."

* * *

><p>That night, Ophelia shuffled into Hermione's room, and carefully closed the door. She wouldn't sleep that night, and she didn't want to be left alone with her thoughts.<p>

She was hoping that Hermione would be asleep, but the girl was sitting up in her bed, her reading lamp on. She had a copy of a book on horcruxes in her lap.

"Hey," Hermione greeted mildly, with a warm smile. The two girls hadn't talked in a while.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bother you. I just…"

"Didn't want to be alone?" Hermione guessed, "me neither."

Hermione patted her duvet cover, gesturing for Ophelia to join her.

Ophelia sat down and looked her friend sincerely in the eyes. Before she could understand what was happening, her lower lip began to quiver, and tears spilled out of her eyes.

"Shhh," Hermione comforted her older friend, patting her back, "it's okay."

"No it's not," Ophelia choked, "how can it be? Everything that could go wrong, _has_ gone wrong. I lived my whole life keeping people out. I let my guard down just _once_, because I think it might make me happy…and I get my heart broken. Then I'm left pregnant and alone."

"I was scared, Hermione. Maybe I didn't talk about it enough, but I was scared. I was only nineteen years old, I didn't know how to be pregnant, and I didn't know how to keep it together. Then I lose the one thing that I had to look forward to, and it's all my fault. Now I'm with you guys again, looking at a bleak future. I probably won't make it much further."

Hermione sympathized with Ophelia, but she kept quiet.

"_Why_ did he do that to me, Hermione?" Ophelia's face was saturated with grief and betrayal, "Why would he seem one way, and then suddenly be someone _completely different_? Is it wrong that I still miss him? I mean, if I got to see him again, I'd rip his head off. But…I miss what we had. I miss cuddling with him in his bed. I miss reading with him, I miss learning from him. I miss…"

_I miss writing secret notes to him. I miss feeling happy and alive. I miss understanding myself through him, _Ophelia thought to herself.

"I miss it all," she whispered, "even the lies. Because at least I was protected from the truth."

"I know," Hermione said, and pulled her friend into a tight embrace, "I know."

Ophelia wasn't sure that Hermione really _did_ know. But she appreciate the gesture, nonetheless.

They fell asleep next to each other, tears staining their impressionable faces.

* * *

><p>"I think we should at least say goodbye," Hermione argued, looking to Ron for support, "after all they've done for us…"<p>

"But Hermione," Harry argued, "we can't let them know what's going on."

"It doesn't matter," Ophelia spoke up, "they know we're leaving. They've known for some time. If we can't give them an explanation, we at least owe them a goodbye."

Although they didn't all agree, the foursome were too tired and restless to argue.

Fleur gave them all wet kisses and muttered quickly in French.

Ophelia understood the language well enough to know that the girl was praying for their safety and return.

"Wait, Ophelia," Bill pulled her aside, "I have messages from my parents."

Ophelia's ears perked up. She hadn't talked to the Weasleys in so long. She found herself missing Mrs. Weasley's motherly concern, and Arthur Weasley's eccentricity.

"I told my mother what happened. With your baby, I mean," Bill said awkwardly, "she's distraught. She sends her love."

Ophelia nodded, "I send mine back."

"And my father…," Bill reach behind him to put a parcel in Ophelia's hands, "said to give you this."

Ophelia unwrapped the parcel. It was a book of a substantial size, cloth-bound.

_Sense and Sensibility_, it read,_ by Jane Austen_.

"He said it was by the same Muggle author of a different book you were reading," the read head shrugged, "it's a gift."

Ophelia smiled, running her hands across the cover.

"Thanks Bill. I'm going to enjoy this."

"Well," Harry spoke up, and all eyes turned to him, "let's get going, shall we?"

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed this! It's the last of the short/uneventful chapters- I promise! The Battle of Hogwarts is coming up, guys! How excited are you? Please review! And feel free to suggest _anything_ or send me messages, as I mentioned.**

**Also, in response to user Jordan Lynn 7, "Teddy" is usually short for Theodore. However, on the HP Wiki site, it says that both Ted Tonks, and Teddy Lupin are Edwards.**


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